Losing It All
by Fan of U
Summary: The screaming stopped. His body wasn't screaming anymore...that was good. That was a good thing. Right? ...He felt numb.
1. Naptime

His shuriken missed.

'No...'

Scream

'N-No...'

Splash

'No. No. No. No. No. No. No...'

Flush

'No!'

Cold. He felt cold.

"Mikey!"

He can hear his brothers screaming for their youngest brother. Yet, he couldn't hear his own.

"Leo, pull us up!"

He heard Leo grunt as he pulled him and Donnie up. He felt the cold concrete that made up the sewer floors. He felt his hands and knees cemented to the floor.

"Donnie! Where did he go? Where is he going?!"

"I-I-I don't know! The septic tanks drain can lead to a variety o-of tunnels and pipes through the sewers. He...He could be traveling throughout the entire New York sewer system right now! There's too many possibilities...t-too many tunnel routes he could be going through..."

Donnie was rambling. That was never a good sign. Whenever he heard the brainiac ramble on and on, it meant two things. One, he was excited about something nerdy that he and his brother would find either boring, or actually pretty cool. Or, in this situation, he was panicking over something either nerdy, his crush on April, or...

The safety of his family.

He could hear Donnie endlessly rambling in the background, while Leo tries to calm him down. Leo was anything, but calm at the moment. He could hear the strain of older brother's voice trying to tell Donnie that everything will be fine. Everything will be fine, they'll find Mikey, and then they'll call it a hard, bizarre day's work.

So, why did his body felt like a ton of bricks that have just been thrown on his back when he hears that?

Why didn't he believe Leo?

Why was Donnie rambling nonsense?

Why couldn't he move at all?

Why couldn't he breathe?

Why...

Why did he miss?

"Raph? Raph!"

Why did the Squirrelanoids take Mikey?

"Ra...can you he...e!"

Why was he going deaf?

"...aph! R...pull yourself...gether! Snap ou...it!

Why was his vision going red? Red with black dots dancing all around...

He felt himself shaking. Or was someone shaking him? He couldn't tell.

His head felt kinda funny.

His stomach doesn't feel too good, though.

How long was his face stuck to the floor? Wasn't he kneeling before?

His eyelids felt heavy...maybe he was tired?

Sick?

He didn't know. He couldn't feel anything either. His hearing was gone by now. It wa...only a...matter of ti...efore...is vision...

...

...

...He always liked a good nap.

* * *

He was drowning.

Maybe if he didn't scream, he would've had the time to breathe in a mouthful of air before the Squirrelanoids dragged him down the sewage waters.

But he didn't.

Instead, he screamed.

He screamed in pain and terror as he felt the claws of the mutant squirrel grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him down with the rest of his buddies.

He barely had any air left in him because of that.

Now, his lungs were screaming.

He hit the water hard.

His whole body shivered, yet he felt as though the pain was keeping him still.

The mutant squirrel still had a good grip on his ankles.

He was practically hugging his legs while the current took them away.

He thought it would've looked cute...if his whole body wasn't screaming at him.

Air...

He needed air.

Did the Squirrelanoids need air?

He watched the other two mutant squirrels swim frantically towards him and their friend.

One of the them took a hold of his arm.

The other clutched his head.

Their claws were sharp.

They were really, really sharp.

...Did sewage water always have a red tint to it?

...Air.

Where are they going?

Air.

Will they wash up in another city?

Air...

Will they be flushed in an open area somewhere in the sewer tunnels?

Ai...

His chest hurt.

A...

His whole body hurt.

...

The screaming stopped. His body wasn't screaming anymore...that was good. That was a good thing. Right?

...He felt numb.

He wondered if the Squirrelanoids felt numb, too.

Maybe they were feeling the same way he was feeling right now.

He wondered if Raph would want his shuriken back.

He watched it swirl around in the murky waters.

Maybe not. Raph has a ton more shurikens to throw.

What made this one special?

Nothing.

...He wondered if he'll ever see him again.

Will he see any of his brothers?

His family?

His friends?

Maybe.

He might be drowning now...but that doesn't mean he's going to die.

He's just going to...take a nap.

Yeah...a nap sounds pretty good...right...now.

Then, he'd wake up and be in Donnie's lab.

Where he'd probably...be forced to...sta...in be...for a whi...

And...an rest fo...a few wee...while he get...etter.

Hi...amily would nurse him ba...to hea...

His family...wou...sa...him.

...

...

Oh.

Hey, look...

Bubbles

* * *

To anyone who has the time to read an authors note: Hello! How have you been? It's been awhile...a long while and I apologize for that. I hope this new story that I've been mentioning before will make up for lost time. Granted, the first chapter isn't very long, but not every beginning has to start out that way.

This is going to be a story that's going to be told differently than my other ones, so it's going to be a new journey for me and you. It's my take on the episode "Invasion of the Squirrelanoids", a "what if" kind of fic. I hope you have a good read(or at least a decent one) with this story as it's going to be a whole new territory for me to write. Hope you all have a good day(or night wherever you are)


	2. Hot

To BrightLotusMoon: Then this should please you more...hopefully...

To Ninjas Say Hi: Who says there's no time for comedy? There's always time for comedy!...depending on the situation at hand, the circumstances, and your sense of humor that is.

To Raphaelfangirl4real: *hypnotized* I shall continue to write and publish...finishing the story, however, is something that even magic can't grant.

To everyone: Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and or favorited this story. It's really appreciated.

* * *

He knew something was wrong.

He felt it.

It was an uneasy feeling of worry.

Being a father, this was completely normal.

It was normal for a single parent to worry about their four active children.

Children who weren't really children anymore.

They were teenagers.

Teenagers who had to go through a lot of changes and grow up into fine adults one day, but they will always be his children.

Always.

So, why did this feeling of worry differ from all the other worries?

Granted, maybe it was because he wasn't just a father, but a mutated one...who lived in the sewers...hiding for a number of reasons...

Maybe, in his situation, his worry was to feel far more greater than any normal father out there...right?

It seemed justified.

After all, his children aren't exactly just children themselves.

They are mutated children.

Mutated children who were trained ninjas.

Ninjas who had to patrol almost everyday to defend the city from the common criminals and wrongdoers.

Criminals who were also his enemies, seeking for revenge against him...

Revenge by any means necessary...at all.

Some parents are considered to be a bit too protective over their children.

In his case...

He had every right to be protective just as he has every right to be worried for them.

...

...He trusted his sons.

He may be protective.

He may worry.

The trust in his sons, however, are greater.

He was sure everything was fine.

Even in their toughest fights, they still managed to come home safe and sound with him.

His sons were fine.

He was just having fatherly concerns.

That was normal.

His children were fine.

His worry...may be nothing.

Nothing at all.

Nothing is wrong.

Everything is all right.

Soon, his sons will come home and tell him all about their fight against those mutated squirrels, learn a lesson from it, and proceed to be children again.

His children.

His four...precious children...

...Why was his feeling becoming worse?

Why was it growing?

He heard hurried footsteps.

"Sensei!"

That voice...it was his oldest, but it didn't quite sound like him.

His voice sounded...scared.

He turned his head, and saw his oldest and his second youngest carrying their unconcious brother.

His third oldest son.

Why was he unconscious?

Leonardo told him everything that happened.

Donatello explained and filled in the little details about what happened.

Raphael was gently placed on the couch and said nothing, but seemed to be coming to as he groaned softly.

Michelangelo...

Michelangelo.

He wasn't here to say anything.

He wasn't here...

His youngest son wasn't here.

His child...wasn't here.

"Leonardo, Donatello...go and find your brother. I will look after Raphael in the mean time."

His son's nodded and left.

He tended to his son's wounds, which were just a few scratched here a there, and gently placed a hand on his head.

He rubbed his head softly, and whispered his son that he was safe...and sound.

Safe and sound...

His youngest should be safe and sound.

He should be.

He should...

...

He should be here.

His youngest should be here with his brothers...with his father.

His family...

...

He wasn't feeling worried.

That wasn't it.

He knew something was wrong, but...

This wasn't normal.

This was familiar.

That uneasy feeling from before...

His eyed widened.

'No...'

The hand on his son's head shook.

'Please...no.'

Hot.

It suddenly felt too hot.

He felt a drip of sweat run along his whiskers.

Or were those tears?

Did it really make a difference?

No.

No, because he felt like was was suffocating.

He felt like he was burning.

He felt like he was...on...fire...

'Tang Shen!'

He gulped loudly.

'Miwa!'

He let out a shuddering breath.

'No!'

He felt himself kneel by his unconscious son.

His knees felt weak.

His head felt light.

"Michelangelo..."

He heard himself whisper his son's name...and his whole body burned even more.

He clutched his chest where his heart would be.

It wasn't worry.

It wasn't, but how he wishes it were.

Oh, how he wished he felt that instead of...

...

Dread.

It was burning him from the inside.

Why?

Why would he feel such a thing.

'Not again...'

No.

No, these were different circumstances...right?

This wasn't like what happened to his wife, and what he thought also happened to his daughter.

His daughter was still alive.

His son was still alive.

His son is alive.

...

...

Yet, why did it feel all the same?

Why was he getting a sense of déjà vu?

Why did it feel like he was still burning?

* * *

He was starting to hate the color red.

He should probably tell Raph to wear a different color mask when he sees him again.

What color would suit his brother?

Pink.

He snorted to himself.

The family hothead wearing pink.

Hot pink.

He laughed.

Big mistake.

Pain immediately engulfed his entire body.

He heard himself gasp.

He felt himself cough.

He tasted the same, thick substance he has for...

How long has it been?

How long was he out?

How long was he awake?

He didn't know.

He wasn't even sure he wanted to know, just like how he didn't want to know how bad he looked.

He probably looked ugly now.

Well...he couldn't look as bad as Raph...can he?

His brother should really ask him for beauty advice sometime.

He was the most handsome turtle out of all of his brothers.

Speaking of his brothers...

Where were they?

They had to be looking for him.

Why was it taking so long?

Where was he anyway?

Where did the Squirrelanoids go?

He shuddered, which caused him to groan in pain.

He really didn't feel good.

He will be, though.

As soon as his brothers find him, he'll be okay.

Dr. Donnie will patch him up right away!

...

Maybe he could meet them halfway?

'Yeah! I could meet them halfway! That way, we can find eachother quicker. Good idea, Mikey! No prob, Mikey.'

...

...

It hurt.

His body hurt so much.

It hurt to move and of his limbs in any direction.

His body moved so...so slow.

He frowned, thinking that he was becoming the stereotypical turtle.

Turtles are slow.

He wasn't a regular turtle, though.

He was a mutant turtle!

He was faster than the average turtle!

He was a super turtle!

He saw a puddle just a few feet from him.

He limped his way toward it.

He saw his reflection.

...

...

Was that him?

It didn't look like him, yet...

His blue eyes were staring back at him.

He noticed he wasn't wearing his orange mask.

He pouted.

'I really liked that mask.'

He looked at his surroundings.

...Tunnels looked all the same to him.

Seeing a trail of red was a new edition to the sewers, though.

...It didn't look good.

He didn't feel good.

'The sewers could really use a makeover. It could use a new coat of paint.'

He sighed to himself and decided to move forward to a random tunnel.

He didn't know where he was going, but he was never good at staying still.

He rather move.

He wanted to just...go.

He wanted to go home.

His footsteps felt heavy.

His head kind of felt dizzy.

His vision was getting blurry every now and then.

Red continued to paint the sewer floors, and a bit on the walls, too...where he used his hand to support himself.

...He really didn't like the color red anymore.

He hopes to meet his brothers halfway.

They can help him paint the sewer!

They can help him find a hot pink mask for Raph to wear!

...

...

Donnie told him about blood loss before...was he experiencing that right now?

...Nah.

He smiled.

It hurt.

He was just being optimistic is all!

It hurt so much.

'Leo could learn a thing or two from me. Always stressed out. He should totally take a chill pill every now and then to relax. The dude seriously needs to look on the brighter side of things, like me!'

He chuckled to himself at the thought.

Red drool dribbled down to his chin.

He could practically see the brightside already!

It's right over there!

A big, bright light of white, hot sunshine!

...It was just right...over there.

On the other side of the tunnel...


	3. Unfortunate

To Pen-Woman: Soon?...Soon might take awhile...enjoy!

To Bookworm1978: You will wait patiently no more! Thanks for reading and sorry for the feels. *Hands tissue*

To No Guns Only Roses: Hey, no judging here. If you think so, then he would! Own your tastes!

To BrightLotusMoon: Why, thank you! It's a different kind of writing than what I'm used to, so its fairly new to me, but I'm glad you like it so far! As for help, I would love to hear some suggestions from you and anybody who's interested to put their ideas out there to share.

To PopcornWolf10: I will keep it up! Don't tell me why to do! *Hands knife* Here's a knife to cut the tension with, hopefully its not too thick.

* * *

Out of all the things he had to wake up to...why this?

"Se-Sensei?"

The old rat was breathing unevenly.

His Sensei looked like he was in pain.

Something was wrong with his father.

"Sensei!"

He got up a little too fast and groaned as he felt his head spin.

The black dots were back.

He blinked a few times and held his head.

A second goes by...then three...then six...

His head stopped spinning.

The black dots were fading away.

If only it were that easy to help his Sensei...to just blink and make all your problems away.

Sadly, in this case, it was going to take a lot more than blinking to solve this issue.

He grabbed the old rat by his shoulders and shook him slightly.

He tried calling out to him, but for some reason his Sensei wasn't listening to him.

He was whispering something.

He was whispering a name.

"Michelangelo..."

...

It hit him.

It hit him all at once...and he wished he could hit it back.

You can't hit back a memory, though.

How unfortunate.

He quickly turned his head around to see if his brothers were around.

Nothing.

He listened carefully.

Maybe they were somewhere else in the lair.

...

Nothing but silence...except for his Sensei's panicked breathing.

It was just him and Sensei.

It was just him...

His heart was speeding up.

His breathing was beginning to match his Sensei's.

Why was he panicking?

Why was his Sensei acting like this?

Why...why was his father acting like this?

He's seen him panic before, but nothing like this.

Why wasn't his Sensei trying to be calm and collected?

Why wasn't his father listening to him?

He tried shaking him some more.

Nothing.

He tried talking to him.

He tried yelling at him.

The old rat couldn't hear him.

His words fell on deaf ears.

Nothing.

Nothing was working...

Nothing...except maybe...

'Man, I'm so gonna get grounded for this...well, can't say that I didn't try!'

* * *

Raphael had a very big heart.

Emotions, however, were always something that he had trouble with.

Despite his big heart, his emotions were even bigger sometimes.

That caused problems.

That caused a lot of problems for his son.

Whether it was towards his brothers, his friends, or his enemies, an emotion will almost always get the best of him.

Anger.

It was usually anger that got to him the most.

Although, there was another that would get the best of him, too...

Passion.

His son wouldn't admit it so easily, but he knew he was a very passionate young man.

He was passionate whenever he fought.

Whether it was in a physical fight, or a verbal one, his son would do it with passion...and anger.

His son couldn't really separate the two.

The two emotions were fuel to one another at this point.

Without anger, his passion couldn't reach out very far.

Without passion, his anger didn't know when to stop reaching.

Such emotions made his son uncomfortable.

Confused.

It was an inner turmoil that caused his son so much trouble, whether it was intentional or not.

Yet, it has also helped him in some situations.

When his son was able to control his anger and passion, to sync them as one, a fire would light up in his eyes.

The two emotions would fuel his son's fire into something incredible.

Energy.

Strength.

Courage...and much more.

So much more.

It truly was incredible...so where were they?

Where was his anger?

His passion?

He would've taken any of those two emotions than receiving a slap to the face!

The slap echoed throughout the lair.

He slowly looked at his son.

His son stared right back.

...

...

Bonk

"Ow!"

He hit his son with his cane.

He got up and glared down at him.

His son stood up and glared at him back.

...

...

"What was that for?!"

"You are grounded, Raphael!"

"I was trying to help you!"

"By slapping me across the face?!

"Yes!"

He raised his cane up.

"W-w-wait, Sensei!"

Raphael raised his arms to defend himself from the oncoming impact.

His son talked rapidly in trying to justify his actions.

Slowly, he found himself lowering his cane.

Even though his son was talking a bit too fast, he managed to catch a few words.

"Mikey...flush...drain!"

His youngest...

There was no time for this.

There was no time for him to have a talk with Raphael about his actions.

He hoped Leonardo and Donatello would've been back by now.

He hoped he would have at least received a call from them to know their progress.

Nothing.

No signs of his other two sons returning from their search anytime soon.

No call.

No progress.

Nothing.

He told Raphael to try and catch up with his brothers.

He told his son which way they went.

He told his son he will stay in the lair just in case Michelangelo returns by himself, or if his brothers return before he can find them.

He told his child to be safe...and to save their Michelangelo.

Raphael nodded.

His child understood him.

He watched his son run towards the entrance/exit of their lair.

He watched him pause halfway, turn around, and look at him.

"Sorry for hitting you, Sensei. I tried snapping you out of it, but..."

Guilt slowly crept its way up his back.

He put his son in a situation he didn't know how to handle.

His son's heart, emotions...he didn't know how to use it in a situation like this.

A situation that should have never happened.

Maybe his action was justified.

Maybe he deserved it.

He lost his composure in front of his son.

In times like this, he couldn't do that!

His sons needed him the most in times like this!

What was wrong with him?!

There was no time!

There was no time for this!

"I'm sorry, Raphael, but we will have a discussion about this later. Now, go! Find your brothers!"

His son nodded again.

He watched his son leave, but not without seeing his eyes.

His eyes had that fire in them again.

Anger.

Passion.

He should've felt reassure seeing his son's eyes with such burning flames within them.

He should've...but he didn't.

How could he?

How could he when he still...felt it.

The dread.

It was still burning him from the inside.

It was burning him so...so slowly.

He took a deep breath.

He sat on the couch.

He exhaled slowly.

He waited.

He waited for all of his sons to come back.

He waited for their safe return back home.

He waited...and waited...and waited.

Hot...hotter...burning.

The flames were growing stronger.

It burned.

He took another deep breath, exhaled, repeat.

He was slowly burning, and couldn't do anything about it.

Deep breath

Exhale

Repeat.

...

...

He waited with dread on his side.

How unfortunate.


	4. Ring

To J.J. Norris: Thank you! It's not easy portraying them, but I try. I'm glad you enjoy this story and I hope this chapter was worth looking forward to.

To Guest: Hope this was worth the wait! Also, don't put yourself down. I had to fix up quite a handful of typos, misspellings, and all that myself in the first few chapters of this story whenever I looked back on them, and will most likely do the same thing for this chapter and future ones, too! You just keep writing your stuff and learn from your mistakes alright?

To everyone: Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and or favorited this story. It's really appreciated.

* * *

How long have they've been searching?

A few minutes?

A few hours?

It honestly felt like days to him.

He didn't know.

He could just look at his T-phone again to check the time.

He could just ask Donnie for the time...but there was no time for that.

He had to find Mikey.

He has to find him now.

He was hoping that he would answer his call.

It didn't even ring.

Donnie made their T-phones waterproof, but it probably got damaged during...

The currents of the sewer water flushing down the septic tank did look pretty strong...

...

Focus.

He had to focus.

He has to.

Would they have a better chance of finding him if they split up?

Maybe.

Was it riskier?

Probably.

Who knows where those Squirrelanoids went.

Who knows where their brother went...

He shook his head.

He had to focus!

He had to keep searching.

...

Splitting up...what was he thinking?

Splitting up wasn't a good idea before, why would it be a good one now?

It just wasn't an option.

Not this time.

They had to search for Mikey together.

He and his brother have to stick together in order for them to find him.

Although, that reduced their chances to find him slightly...and without Raph to help them...

Chances were even lower.

...

...This shouldn't be a thing.

They shouldn't be in this situation right now.

He should have done something.

He should have stopped Mikey from running off.

How was he supposed to know he had a plan?

He should have pulled him up faster when they caught him.

How was he supposed to know that one of those mutant squirrel things would jump right out of the water and take Mikey...again?!

He should've...

What if they couldn't find him?

What if they find the Squirrelanoids instead of Mikey?

Their last fight with them didn't go so well...and that was when the four of them were all together!

Now it was just him and Donnie.

...What if Donnie was next?

He couldn't risk losing another...

He shook his head harder.

'Focus!'

What was he thinking?

He didn't lose Mikey...and he wasn't going to lose anybody!

Mikey was just...separated from them is all.

He was separated from them...and they would find him.

They will find him.

He will find him.

They had to.

He just...has to.

...His phone was ringing.

* * *

It has been an hour.

It has been an hour and forty-five minutes.

It has been exactly an hour and forty-five minutes...and 32 seconds since they've been searching for Michelangelo.

...Not that he was counting or anything.

It was just an estimated guess.

He sighed.

He felt a headache coming along.

Why?

Why now?

He rubbed his forehead.

Now was not the time to have a headache.

He had to find Mikey!

...

12 seconds went by.

It has been exactly an hour and forty-five minutes...and 44 seconds since they've been searching for Michelangelo.

...Give or take.

...

There were so many possibilities.

There were so many possibilities as to where his brother could be.

He could still be in sewage water with those mutated squirrels, being flush away to who knows where.

He could have surfaced.

He could have drowned.

The look on his brothers face...it didn't look like he had time to breathe in an essential amount of air.

...

Mikey had good lungs, though.

He has bragged about it before.

He could practically hear him say it.

'Like a turtle do!'

...That was technically incorrect.

Thanks to the mutagen, their lung capacity has been expanded.

The mutagen's properties altered their DNA, resulting in their abilities as turtles such as breathing and other skills, to be enhanced greatly.

Their lungs were much more evolved due to their transformation process, and thus, better and more capable than the average turtles.

However, they were still turtles.

Drowning was still a possibility, however.

Mutated turtle or not, they still needed air.

Mikey probably needed some air.

Despite having good lungs, air was still a requirement.

A necessity.

Without air, what good were lungs?

...

He shook his head.

5 minutes went by.

It has been exactly an hour and fifty minutes...and...22 seconds since they've been searching for Michelangelo.

...He thinks.

He wasn't sure.

Leo looked sure when he called Mikey.

He looked so sure he was going to receive an answer.

No didn't receive one.

No surprise there.

The likelihood of the T-phone surviving the massive water currents at the pressure and velocity it was going by the looks of it were slim.

The current most likely smashed his poor creation repeatedly into the sewer walls and floors with a tremendous force.

Another possibility were the mutated squirrels.

They could've damaged it too somehow...but if they did manage to get a hold of it and destroy it...

...

...Could Mikey survive an attack like that?

...

The headache was getting stronger by the minute.

His brother may have come up with a clever plan...but it came with consequences.

It came with risks.

Did Mikey know that?

Or did he just wing it?

He wasn't sure.

He was never sure with Mikey...

There was a possibility of him being fine.

A very low possibility.

The way those Squirrelanoids grabbed and attacked him...they would most likely find him with a few scratches.

With those claws of theirs...maybe more than just a few scratches.

Slashes.

Gashes.

Lacerations.

The list of possible injuries could go on and on.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

Hopefully, he wouldn't have to make such a list.

...

10 minutes went by.

Two hours.

It has been two hours and...whatever minutes and seconds since...since...

Where is his little brother?!

...He heard a phone ring.

It wasn't his.

* * *

He called.

He heard it ring.

He waited for an answer.

...

It only took a second.

He heard his brothers voice.

"Leo!"

"Raph!"

He asked him where he was.

If he was with Donnie, or if they splitted up to search.

If they found Mikey or...

...

Still no Mikey.

He frowned.

He didn't like that answer.

He hoped Leo and Donnie already found him...or at least made some progress.

None.

Mikey didn't even pick up Leo's call.

They've made no progress.

Not even a single hint as to where he could be...

This wasn't good.

This wasn't good at all.

Leo didn't sound too good.

Neither did Donnie...

His own voice didn't sound too good when he responded, either.

They asked him if he was okay.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

He wasn't.

He lied.

They probably knew he lied.

They couldn't stop him even if they tried, though.

They probably knew that, too.

He was going to get a health lecture or something from Donnie later for sure.

Leo was probably going to lecture him, too...and just to tick him off!

'Could this day get any worse?!'

He sighed heavily.

There was nothing else left to say.

He knows where they are.

Now, all he has to do was catch up with them and help them search.

Call ended.

He growled as he put his T-phone away.

Today was just not their day.

When was it ever?

He ran faster.

...Should he have told them what happened to Sensei?

What would he have told them?

He wasn't even sure what happened himself.

That whole scene to him was...just too much.

It was too much for one day.

It was just...too much for him for one day.

...

He hoped things were looking brighter for Mikey.


	5. Light

To everyone: Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and or favorited this story. It's really appreciated.

* * *

Bright.

It was so bright.

The light was so bright and...and warm.

So warm and comforting.

He was so grateful for the light.

It provided him warmth.

He felt cold before.

Cold and...heavy.

He felt like he was gaining weight with each step that he took until...

This light...

This light was saving him from the cold he felt just moments ago.

This light made him feel like he was walking on air.

So comforting.

He wished he could snuggle it somehow.

If only the light would let him!

He tried reaching for it, but it kept running away from him.

Why?

Why was the light running away from him?

He just wanted to snuggle with it!

Was that so wrong?

...

...The light was spinning now.

It looked so pretty to him.

It kinda looked like it was dancing.

What a funny light!

...Maybe he should stop looking at it.

It was starting to make him feel dizzy.

He should...he should, but...

It was getting brighter and brighter.

Warmer.

Comfier.

He couldn't look away.

He couldn't reach for it.

...

...His eyes felt so heavy.

Was he sleepy?

He did feel tired.

This light would be his nightlight.

Such a caring light.

Would it snuggle with him then?

If he went to sleep?

Was it past his bedtime?

What time was it?

...

Well...

He cou...

He could get some beauty sleep.

Y...Yeah.

S...some beau...sleep does...doesn't soun...ike such a...

bad...idea...

...

...

Thud

* * *

A sound.

He heard a sound.

A heavy one.

He looked up...and hoped his eyes were playing tricks on him.

A sick joke.

His eyes wouldn't lie to him, however, they wouldn't deceive him like that.

He wished they did.

...

...He could almost feel his eyeballs popping out of their sockets.

His whole body...He couldn't move.

His breath...it was stuck in his lungs.

His heart pounded violently, pumping out ice through his body as he felt a shiver tearing his back apart.

Cold.

He felt so cold, yet...

He felt like he was engulfed in flames.

"Michelangelo!"

He rushed to his fallen son.

He wasn't sure how, though.

One minute he was frozen...the next he's burning with adrenaline?

Nauseous.

He felt nauseous, too.

How could he not?

His son...his youngest child...

His baby.

"My s...my so...

He couldn't say it.

He just couldn't find himself to say it.

How could he call this...this body his son when it didn't even look like him?

He knew it was him, though.

He knew.

That smile...

Only his youngest smiled like that.

Only Michelangelo can smile at a time like this...

...

...How could he...

How could his son be smiling at a time like this?!

It sickened him.

It really did.

He lifted his...his son into his arms.

He cradled his head as if he were a baby.

He was.

He was his baby...and his baby was so cold.

Cold and sticky and...and...

Bloody.

There was so much blood.

It was so sticky and warm...and yet he felt like he was holding a crushed bag filled with ice cubes.

A frozen, bloody bag.

His son's eyes were halfway open...it gave him a frightening chill the longer he stared at his...vacant eyes.

Devoid of all light.

Empty.

His smile was a bloody mess.

Red drool dribbled down to his chin and running across his torn neck.

His body...

How could his son have walked here with such a broken body?

Only a few patches of his skin were still green.

Now, his body was consisted of different shades of purple and blue.

Almost every inch of him was covered in marks.

Disgusting marks.

They were everywhere.

Gashes as long as his tail.

Scratches as wide as his ears.

Cuts as deep as the dread that burned within him the longer he held his son.

His beaten, almost unrecognizable son.

He almost looks like a stranger.

Honestly, he could've mistaken his son for another mutant if the circumstances were different.

He wished the circumstances were different.

Instead, here they were.

Here he was staring into his son's soulless eyes...hoping for a blink.

A twitch.

A flicker of light in those blue eyes.

Nothing.

No blink.

No twitch.

Not even a flicker of light that would shine across his beautiful, blue eyes.

Michelangelo's eyes weren't even blue anymore...

It appalled him.

It made him want to cry.

So he did.

He watched his own tears fall on his son's cheek...rolling down his cold, bloody face.

His son...was broken.

His baby was practically dead in his arms.

...

He listened carefully.

He touched his neck for a pulse.

...

...He heard the faintest sound of a heartbeat.

He felt the tiniest hint of a pulse.

...There was hope.

Slowly, he reached a hand to close his son's eyes.

He gently kissed the small part of his forehead that wasn't torn to shredded pieces of skin.

He stood up, pretending there wasn't a huge puddle of blood on the floor where his son fell, and carried his baby towards Donatello's lab.

He ignored his robe drenched in the red, sticky substance.

He acted as if the smell of iron that filled the lair didn't bother him at all.

Walking in to the lab, he quickly realized his other son's were still looking for their brother.

Should he call them?

...

...No.

He couldn't call them.

He had no time.

They could be miles away from the lair.

Who knows how long it would take them to get here!

He couldn't wait for them.

There was no time!

He had to do something now!

He lost one child already.

He couldn't lose another.

Not again...

Closing the door to the lab, he locked it with his tail and took a deep breath.

His son felt so light in his arms...

He walked towards the metal table and gently placed his son on it.

He slowly let out the breath he held in a bit too long, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do.

He swallowed the bile he felt quickly building up in his mouth.

It wasn't going to be easy.

Nothing about this was going to be easy at all.

He knew that, but...

He had to try.

He has to save his son.

His son couldn't die at such a young age...he wouldn't!

He was going to save his baby...

After all...his second youngest son wasn't the only one who possessed skills in the medical field...


End file.
